just like a woman

what's your name?

TW: SEXUAL ASSUALT REFERENCES 

new york city, 1961

when i first saw him i was sitting in a bar--  in a notoriously bad district. 

it's a small and cramped place-- i choose a booth facing the door so i can observe as people come and go. there's some rough faces, some interesting ones-- the kind of faces that remind me of why i shouldn't be here and why i am. 

he walks in with a few friends-- all male, fairly rowdy but not in an intimidating way. they all seem very... boyish, sort of. full of life, 20-something. they settle in and order drinks, lower their voices to fit the energy of the room. i try to look elsewhere but no one else interests me. he sits on the left, engaged in the conversation but he seems to also be intaking his surroundings. he looks almost divine, eyes like that of a painted saint. through the haze of cigarette smoke we meet each others gaze and something... clicks. we look at each other in a way that only young people can. 

maybe it's lust.

honestly it probably is.  i think, but the romantic in my head whispers what if it's deeper?

it feels so real and wordless in the soft clink of green beer bottles and profane chatter. i know he senses it too; i feel his eyes on me when i look away. 

i light another cigarette, my third one of the night. it's a marlboro gold-- my favorite.  i think about getting more wine, but decide against it. i'm already fairly drunk and besides, i have to walk home eventually. all this time i'm waiting for him to come over and talk to me, but it's as if he's waiting for me, too. 

well, that's not the type of girl i am, unfortunately. i meet his gaze once again. he is no longer enthusiastically participating in his friends conversation: so much of his attention is on me. i smile at him softly for a moment. neither of us look away.

finally, finally, he rises from the table across the way and begins to walk over to me. i quickly try to fix my hair and smooth my dress as subtly as i can. once he gets to my table he offers an awkward crooked smile and says

"hey... i uhm. well--"

i tilt my head to the side slightly, empathetic to his nervousness. 

"what's your name?" he says, finally finding his footing. 

i smile because i can't help it. 

"rosemary. and yours?"

"it's bob."

"would your friends over there mind if you sat with me for a spell, bob?" i could see them all watching us intently, stifling laughter in a failed half-attempt to be subtle. 

"i don't think they would." he said, sliding into the booth with me. "what's a girl like you doing in a bar like this, anyway?" 

i snub out my cigarette. his eyes linger on my lipstick-stained filter in the ashtray.

"i like to people-watch, i guess. and the wine is cheap here." 

he nods, but then says "you can people-watch anywhere."

"yeah, but then i don't meet folks like you." i reply. 

"is that so?" he leans in slightly. "you meet guys like me often?" 

i laugh and playfully push him. "no, no, not like that!" he smiles a little and seems sort of relived, which i think is funny. 

"no, usually i keep to myself, but if someone talks to me i listen." he seems surprised by my words, but i don't bother to elaborate. i'm too busy studying his body and its language. he has a slim build and he slouches, making him look even slighter yet. even so, his frame is much bigger than my 5'2" slender body. i get the feeling that he's not used to people being smaller than him. his hair is short on the sides but i like the way it curls on top. i am once again drawn to his stunning eyes and thin nose. eyes of a martyr,  i think. face of  an angel. he lets his hand limply rest on the back of the seat, just behind my head. the cigarette in his other hand looks like it belongs there. 

"you know, you seem like you really hear when you listen, girl. i can dig you." he takes a drag. 

"i can dig you, too." i say, trying hide my smitten. "you seem like you really see when you look." 

he laughs. fuck, did that make any sense? i had been so lost in his sex appeal, i hadn't thought about what i was saying. 

"thanks." he says, finally. his friends had begun to taunt him playfully, but neither of us look over. he seems to deliberate for a moment, and then: "listen, i don't got a telephone right now but i'll give you my address-- stop by if you feel like it, yeah?" 

i bite my lip a little, thinking. as soon as i nod he reaches for a napkin and pulls a pen from his jacket pocket. as he's writing he leans over the napkin, under the table his thigh brushes against mine. i inhale slowly, trying to be cool, but something about him really sets me off. he smells like sandalwood and tobacco and old books. christ, rosemary. get ahold of yourself! you just met this man, don't be so intense. 

he finishes writing and slides the napkin over to me. "okay. well, see you later, rosemary." then, quickly, he moves forward, pressing his lips to my ear, placing his hand high on my thigh. he whispers "stop by tomorrow, if you can." 

maybe it was the suddenness of it, or the way that his leg pressed even harder into mine when he said the words, but i was so wet while i watched him saunter back to his friends. nearly euphoric, i gather my things and head for the door. fantasies are already dancing in my head, making me dizzy with desire. i barely get 10 feet away from the bar when i hear a voice call out from the alleyway. 

"hey sweet-tits!  look over here! who's got you smiling like that, huh?" 

i shouldn't have made eye contact but it was too late. he starts towards me. "hey! c'mon, i don't bite-- unless you want me too." he has a lazy eye and sailor tattoos. i watch him throw his half-finished cigarette on the ground. it occurs to me that this could be very, very bad. i start to walk back to the bar, quickening my pace as he follows me. just as i get to the door he grabs my arm and swings me into the alleyway. his meaty hands feel like they're crushing me, he presses my back into the brick wall. as if broken from a trance, i begin to scream for help. he slaps a hand over my mouth and and angrily hisses:

"hey! hey, now,  just relax!" 

i struggle against him but he's at least double my size, and big too. he rips the top part of my dress, exposing my bra. my scream of terror is muffled. my entire body is shaking with fear. he oogles my breasts. i bite down hard on his hand. the coppery taste of blood floods my mouth as he screams in pain. 

"what the fuck?! you fucking bitch!" he punches me, hard.when i cry out it's animal-sounding. i spit out his blood and wipe my mouth. fear has taken over me and i'm glued to the spot. i start to scream for help again when the bar door  bursts open. 

"bob!" i yelp "help me, please!"  his friends fly out shortly behind him. they all crowd around the man, swearing at him. the man takes off down the alleyway, a few of bob's friends give chase, but bob quickly turns to me.  

"you're all right now, lemme see. did he hurt you?" i nod, feeling embarrassed of the tears falling unwilling down my cheeks. 

"yeah? here, take my jacket. let's get you covered up. you're all right now, aren't ya? yeah?" he cups my cheek, wiping away a few stray tears as i wrap the jacket tightly around myself. he tenderly strokes my cheek where the man hit me. 

"that's gonna hurt in the morning, huh? you're all right, though. you're a tough cookie." i laugh shakily and whisper thank you. he shakes his head. 

"no, i should have walked you home. this is a bad town to be in at night like this." he picks up my purse and wraps an arm around me tightly. "i'll take you there now though, honey. which way?" 

"uhm" i mumble, trying to organize my scrambled thoughts. "can we-- can i... uh. would you take me to your place? i don't want to be alone." 

he smiles and squeezes me tighter. 

"sure thing, rosemary."